


The Injury

by charlock221



Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Gen, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, it refers to arthur's injury and it isn't that graphic, the graphic depictions tag is just a precaution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlock221/pseuds/charlock221
Summary: 'It was stupid. He was stupid. If Dutch or Hosea had been with him, he would have gotten a long lecture about looking where he was going. As it was, though, Arthur was on his own, which was both a blessing and a curse.'Injured and alone in the woods, with no horse or other means to get to safety, Arthur struggles for survival.Part of a series but can be read alone.
Relationships: Albert Mason & Arthur Morgan, Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775863
Comments: 6
Kudos: 110





	The Injury

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this has taken a while to upload, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

It was stupid. _He_ was stupid. If Dutch or Hosea had been with him, he would have gotten a long lecture about looking where he was going. As it was, though, Arthur was on his own, which was both a blessing and a curse.

Nobody heard him yell when the bear trap snapped over his foot, and he was grateful for that, but that also meant _nobody heard him yell when the bear trap snapped over his damn foot_.

He’d been traipsing through the forest around Strawberry, looking for blackberries at Pearson’s behest. He was taking his time on the trip after Hosea had convinced him the camp could survive a couple of days without him. It had been sort of relaxing. Arthur had decided to rent a room for the night at the hotel instead of setting up his tent somewhere, and he’d been looking forward to returning back to the town to enjoy a hot meal and a bath. While out in the forest, the sound of a deer nearby had distracted him, and then there was a swift grating noise and his right foot felt as if it had been ripped off. Realizing he hadn’t been far from the truth, Arthur had focused on sitting down instead of falling down whilst trying not to throw up.

Now, sitting awkwardly on the ground, he worked quickly to prise the trap apart, except his hands were sweaty and his heart was hammering, and he felt like he was going to pass out. The metal jaws barely moved as he struggled to pull them open, and every movement of the trap sent sharp jolts of pain up his leg. Arthur gave up on it for the moment and untied the neckerchief around his neck instead. Blood loss was his biggest problem, and if he didn’t act soon, he _would_ pass out, and likely not be found until it was too late.

Wrapping the cloth around his ankle and biting back curses, Arthur tried not to panic. He needed a clear head, needed to preserve his energy, and wasting time panicking over the thought of not getting free would only get him to that place sooner rather than later. The problem was, his breaths were already coming shorter, and his vision swam each time he moved his head. If he stayed like this much longer, he wasn’t going to be waking up again.

Having tied the neckerchief around his ankle, Arthur went again for the trap, ignoring the wounds on the other side of the metal teeth that were freely bleeding. He could only wrap one side, and so the quicker he freed himself, the quicker he could work on covering all of his wounds.

That was the plan, at least. It was getting harder and harder to think, and at some point he found he’d let go of the trap and was sitting in a daze. Blinking hard, Arthur swallowed down the sickness in his stomach and laid back against the grass. He just needed a second to get his head straight, and then he’d get back to work.

“-gan? Oh God. Oh, no. Can you hear me, Mr. Morgan?”

He thinks he grunted, but his thoughts were so foggy he has no idea if he made a sound. The new voice was muttering somewhere to his left, but Arthur could only hear snippets of what he was saying.

“Keep still, if you can.”

There was a sudden burst of pain around his ankle, and Arthur yelled and jerked upwards. The pain lessened as two hands caught his shoulders and pressed him back down.

“Don’t struggle, don’t struggle,” the stranger babbled, his voice high and pleading. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to help, but you have to keep still.”

“WheremI?” Arthur mumbled, trying to open his eyes to see who was with him. The voice was familiar, and the answer was at the back of his mind, just out of reach.

His companion laughed. “In a forest, with a bear trap around your ankle and the worst possible person to help you free of it.”

“Oh…” He’d recognize that self-deprecating tone anywhere, “S’you, Mason.”

“That’s right, it’s me. I’m very sorry about that. Can you open your eyes?”

Arthur focused and forced his eyes open to see Albert Mason hovering over him, frowning and chewing his lip. Seeing Arthur awake, though, relaxed his features a little.

“It’s good to see you, sir,” Mason said, squeezing his shoulder.

“You too,” Arthur said, and he had never meant it more. “You getting this damn thing off me, then?”

Mason sighed and looked back at the trap. “That’s the idea, yes. It’s going to hurt like the devil, I’m afraid, but it’ll be better for you if you remain still.”

“Just get it over with,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes and preparing for what was coming.

He heard Mason shuffle away, and then the photographer said, “Ready? Count of three, alright?”

“Mm-hm.”

“One, two–” Mason didn’t finish and Arthur didn’t get a chance to tense as the trap was prised open with a strained groan. Arthur knew Mason was probably moving as quickly as he could, but it still felt like the metal teeth were brushing every nerve cell painstakingly slowly on their way out. Over the blood pumping in his ears, Arthur could faintly hear Mason gritting out every curse under the sun as he worked, and under any other circumstance he’d be teasing the photographer mercilessly for it.

Eventually, _finally,_ the jaws were out of his ankle, and Mason was shouting, “Move, move, _move_ ,” at him as he held them open. Arthur needed no further encouragement. He got his hands beneath him and pushed back, his leg dragging behind him. Out of immediate danger, the adrenaline left him and he collapsed against the ground, his vision and hearing dimming.

When he next came to, his ankle was thrumming with a persistent level of pain, and he could feel something tightening over it. He cracked open his eyes, spotting Mason tying his green vest over the wound in a rough knot. It was strange seeing him in just his blue shirt with his sleeves rolled up, but Arthur had bigger things to worry about.

“M’gonna be sick,” he muttered, struggling to move. Mason heard and quickly helped roll him to his side, where Arthur could cough up his stomach without getting it on his clothes.

Mason was patting his shoulder and talking at him, but Arthur felt too miserable to listen. He pushed himself to a sitting position, waving Mason away as he tried to get Arthur to lay back down.

“Can’t stay here,” Arthur said, already short of breath from the small exertion. “Need to get to town.”

“Yes, I know that,” Mason answered in a clipped tone. Arthur hadn’t heard him sound so frustrated before. “That won’t be happening if you push yourself too much, though, will it? Take a moment to get your breath back.”

“Help me up.”

“I _just_ said – okay, wait a minute!” He scrambled upright as Arthur got unsteadily to his feet and grabbed the outlaw’s outstretched arm, pulling it over his shoulders and offering himself as a crutch. “Lean on me, then. You may think you can do it on your own but you won’t get very far if you tried.”

Arthur tried not to show how much pain he was in as they slowly made their way through the bushes. He kept his ankle elevated and hopped on the other foot, grimacing at every motion. Mason was right; if he’d been on his own he would definitely have died before night came. He was lucky Mason showed up when he did, but Arthur didn’t like being forced to depend on him. He didn’t want Mason knowing more about him than he needed to, for both their sakes. It was safer for the photographer, and Arthur didn’t have to skirt around the fact that he was a wanted man.

“Still with me?” Mason asked, interrupting his thoughts. Arthur grunted in response. Talking took too much effort.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

Arthur hissed as his foot dragged over a tree root. “Foraging. Looking for berries.”

“Would have been safer to go to the store, even without getting your foot trapped. All manner of creatures lurk in these forests.”

“Cheaper out here,” Arthur said shortly, wincing at every other step he took.

“Maybe not in the long run, though.”

Mason was right about that. If he lost his foot, it would cost he and the gang. He wouldn’t be able to assist on any jobs, he’d be forced to stay at the camp and help out anyway there. Dutch wouldn’t have use for him, so Uncle and Swanson would be his constant companions, and Arthur was certain he’d go mad. Just thinking about it was making his breathing pick up, and he tried to stop the sudden panic welling inside him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, desperate for a change of subject.

“Oh, I was looking for said lurking creatures,” Mason responded, sounding too enthusiastic for the situation they were in. They crested a hill and Arthur spotted Mason’s horse grazing by the side of the road. “I was going to head north in the hopes of spotting a cougar, but then I had a sudden idea to head west, closer to Strawberry. And while I didn’t find any cougars, I’m certainly glad I came across you, Mr. Morgan.”

“Me too,” Arthur gasped, leaning more and more against Mason.

“Here we are,” the photographer said as they approached his horse. “Now, this part may be a bit tricky. You’re going to have to put some weight on that foot I’m afraid, to help you get on.”

Arthur was aware of that. Reluctantly, he slowly lowered his foot, biting back curses as fresh waves of pain danced up and down his leg. He measured this distance from the ground to the stirrup, and paled at thought of what he had to do next.

“Use my hands, Mr. Morgan, they’re much lower,” Mason said, already getting to one knee and linking his hands together. “I’ll boost you up.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how accurate that was; he was definitely heavier than Mason, so it would be a job and a half to lift him. Still, he’d take any help he could get.

Steeling himself, Arthur gripped the horse’s saddle tightly, and then moved as quickly as he good. He put his good foot in Mason’s hand and pulled upwards at the same time that Mason pushed, and Arthur got his leg up and over the saddle surprisingly easily. It still hurt like the devil, but at least now the worst of it was over. He wasn’t going to think about having to get off the horse just yet.

“Alright?” Mason asked, squeezing his knee briefly before going around the horse to check Arthur’s injury. “I don’t think the bleeding’s stopped, but it seems to a slowed a little, so that’s promising. The sooner we get you to that doctor, the better.”

“Appreciate it,” Arthur said as Mason climbed up behind him and spurred his horse into a quick trot. Arthur knew Strawberry was only a few minutes away, and he was glad Mason hadn’t encouraged his horse to gallop. He would have passed out before they reached the town.

“It’s the least I can do, with the number of times you’ve helped me.”

“You ain’t been covered in blood and half dead, though. If that was the first time I saw you… I might have left you.” Arthur wasn’t sure why he said that; perhaps the blood loss was loosening his tongue. There was an element of truth to it, however.

Mason was quiet for a beat, before he said, “It’s a good thing that isn’t how we met, then.”

“Yeah,” Arthur answered truthfully. “How else would I know to spot Orion?”

Mason hummed behind him, a smile clear in his voice. “Knowledge of the stars is essential, Mr. Morgan. Especially if you’re getting lost in the forest whilst looking for berries.”

“I ain’t stupid enough to do it at night.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered, apparently, you still got caught by the bear trap even in broad daylight.”

It was so similar to something Hosea or Dutch might say, that Mason’s words jolted a small laugh out of him.

“Harsh words, Mr. Mason,” he said, as the road curved and Strawberry came into view. “Knew you weren’t the good Samaritan you claimed to be.”

“I’ve never claimed to be such a thing. It’s foolish of you to think I ever would.”

“I am a fool,” Arthur muttered, blinking sluggishly. “And I’m very glad you found me.” The blood loss was definitely making his tongue looser.

“Me too, Mr. Morgan,” Mason said as they slowed next to the doctor’s. “You’re safe now, no need to worry.”

Arthur realized he wasn’t worried at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day and are very appreciated :) x


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